


Rinzler On The Loose

by LizzyLue



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyLue/pseuds/LizzyLue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Flynn doesn’t realize what kind of monstrosity he’s unleashed on the User world. Cracky, AUish post-legacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mariana Fernandez wasn’t called to investigate a missing person, this wasn’t a murder, and there hadn’t been a bank robbery. Sam Flynn was not speeding down the street on his Ducati after any latest software heist, and she was not called in to chase him down on her own motorcycle. Oh no, today she was Center City’s own one women ASPCA. The police chief of Center City had been called in to fish a cat out of a drain pipe. The animal was located on the thin stretch of sandy shoreline that followed Money Street. She sped off toward the location, her motorcycle rumbling beneath her.

According to the call, the cat had been startled by a car alarm. He had decided the piping was the safest hiding place. She reached her destination across town in less than ten minutes.

There was just one problem. She couldn’t quite figure out how a cat had managed to set off not one, but eight car alarms. It had also broken all the windows belonging to three of these cars, and partially tore the driver’s side door off of one car. A public bench had been over turned, a shop window smashed, and innocent citizens had run screaming for their lives as if from a rampaging rhinoceros.

She had been curious as to why one of the patrol officers nearby hadn’t been assigned to handle this particular situation.

Now face to face with the terrible tabby, she saw for herself that this, was no cat.

“Well, it sure as hell sounded like one!” A middle aged man contested, indignant. His arms were crossed in front of his plaid work shirt and protruding beer belly. This was the concerned bystander who had called about a poor stray in danger. He told her proudly that he had a cat of his own. He adored the thing, apparently, and hated to see any creature of its likeness in distress.

“It’s quiet alright Mr. Johnson, anyone could have made the mistake.” She assured him in her kindest most pleasant, ‘helpful police woman voice’. All the while thinking I don’t know how anyone could make this kind of mistake.

Yes, the man staring her down from within the darkness of the drainage pipe was making an audible, very feline growl- one that might have been classified as a purr, albeit a disgruntled one- but he was most certainly not a cat.

The soft beach sand at the entrance clung to her knees. As Mariana pressed into the piping it was quickly washed away by the murky salt water sitting at the bottom. She felt the uncomfortable feeling of wet fabric clinging to her skin. The strange man retreated impossibly further.The purring noise tore from his throat anew, a warning growl like the revved engine of a motor bike. The tunnel was so narrow she could hardly fit her shoulders inside, and she wasn’t a big woman. How a full grown human male had managed to get himself stuck so deep, she had no idea.

“It alright, I’m only here to help.” She tried to reassure him, but he didn’t appear at all convinced. At the sound of her voice the rumbling purr deepened. He continued to stare unblinkingly at her, blue eyes glowing as if made with LED lights, showing in the darkness much like a cats. His shoulders were drawn in close to his head, his arms pressed right to his rigid body. He was crouched, coiled as if to spring and looking for all intensive purposes like a wild animal that had been backed into a corner.

She wasn’t going to be able to pull him out with some good old law enforcement brand force, the usual way she handled things around here. Judging by the carnage up above on the street, she didn’t believe she would get all her limbs back afterward. She hoped there was a more peaceful solution, for both their sakes.

“Do you think you could try and come out of there?” She asked hopefully, sending him a bright, friendly smile. The officer was fixed with a glare that radiated suspicion.

She sighed.

“Can I at least have a name?”

“Rinzler.” The voice that echoed out of the blackness crackled like a radio signal heard out of range, or Rice Krispies dropped into milk. He struggled even just to form those two syllables. The throat that spoke them sounded like it had been worn down to nothing, as raw as if someone had taken to the inside with sandpaper. Was the man sick? He sounded like he had bronchitis. Was that somehow related to the purring?

Rinzler? That was an unusual name if she had ever heard one. Maybe it was foreign.

Billy Johnson crouched at the entrance, behind her, to get a better look at the catman anomaly. Curious, he ducked his head into the pipe. Said catman made a violent sound like a chainsaw coming to life, it startled both of them.

He liked Billy even less than he did her. That was before he caught sight of what he was holding in his sticky, chocolate smeared fingers. Rinzler’s eyes widened and he raised his head, like a dog that had just caught scent of a squirrel. Dead silence fell as the rumbling cut out. It was a Snickers Bar.

A second Snickers Bar. Billy had just been finishing the first as Officer Fernandez arrived. This Snickers Bar had been unwrapped mere moments ago, and the soft unbroken chocolaty surface shone golden in the sunlight.

“Do you like Snickers?” The police women asked.

Rinzler nodded vigorously.

“Give me that.” She snapped. Mariana reached out to take the candy bar, to pry it from Billy’s fingers in she had to.

“Hey! No way lady! This is mine.” He cried. Billy gave her a horrified look like she was a stranger who had just tried to take his newborn child from his arms. He raised the candy bar high out of her reach, above his head.

“The Center City Police Department has the right to confiscate any and all objects being used in the obstruction of justice or otherwise to endanger the security of Center City.” She quoted mechanically.

“Yeah, great. What does that have to do with my candy bar? I’m only eating it, very happily and not in any justice obstructing manner.” He said, flippant.

“By not handing over that candy bar, it renders me unable to successfully detain a dangerous psychopath, one that has destroyed private and public property alike, and has terrorized my city. I need that Snickers Bar, and you will either give it to me or face a long night in a cell down town.” She threatened.

Scowling at her, Billy reluctantly handed her the candy bar.

“You owe me one Snickers Bar Fernandez.”

He looked regretfully at the candy in her fingers like he was watching his one true love leave him for another man. Officer Fernandez dangled the Snickers Bar out in front of her, in between her thumb and index fingers.

“You want this? You can have it. All you have to do is cooperate.” She told him. That was the ultimatum.

Rinzler shifted a few inches closer. He was wary, but little else seemed to exist for him other than the Snickers Bar. He stared at it like a hawk watching its prey.

“That’s it.” She encouraged him. “Look at this chocolaty goodness, with its peanut and caramel center.”

A few minutes of careful coaxing latter and the suspect was standing on the beach, free. One of her officers ran over to her, he had somehow procured a giant clean towel. The same officer talked in her ear about what had actually occurred that morning. It was a story pieced together from the many accounts he’d gathered from the witnesses.

Apparently this Rinzler had leaned on a parked car. He had been so frightened by the resulting alarm that he’d gone into a panic. In his attempts to get the noise to stop the surrounding property had been mutilated. When the sound still did not cease, Rinzler hid from it underground.

There was no weapon involved, and when asked how the perpetrator had destroyed the property, the student witness only told police ‘Man, he was like a freaking ninja. Totally went Chuck Norris on that van.’

In the sunlight she could see that Rinzler was pale as death, whiter than a ghost, to a point where his skin almost looked transparent. His lips were a purple-blue, he was soaking wet. His dark hair clung to his scalp and he shivered violently. Despite all this, Mariana didn’t think she had ever seen anyone happier. He was grinning like a fool around the candy bar. The police chief threw the towel over him, and wrapped it around him like a cloak.

For a moment he blinked out at her from under the hood, before he returned to gnaw happily on the Snickers Bar. He didn’t seem to have quiet mastered the concept of eating just yet. Rinzler appeared harmless enough, for now at least. He followed her obediently into one of the cruisers; she drove him down to the station.

 They had just walked in through the double doors, when they were ambushed.

“Rinzler! Thank God!” A familiar woman cried.

Mrs. Bradley threw her arms around Mariana’s bizarre charge. The sweet older lady looked like she had been close to tears with worry.

“Are you alright dear? You aren’t hurt are you?” She asked breathlessly, frantically looking him over like a fretful mother. Lora ran a wrinkled hand through his hair, as if searching for head injury.

He gave her an annoyed glare. That didn’t stop the contented purring that filled the room at Lora Bradley’s attention.

“I’m fine.” He rasped.

“We’re glad to hear it.” Alan Bradley walked around his wife to rest a hand on Rinzler’s head, relief clear in his posture. He smiled at him, wearing an expression that was nothing short of fatherly.

“Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Bradley.” Mariana greeted, it was always nice to see the friendly couple.

“Thank you for finding him for us Mariana.” Alan bobbed his head gratefully in her direction.

“Just doing my job, I’m glad I could return him to you safely. I wasn’t aware he was yours.” Rinzler did look just like Mr. Bradley, he must have been a relative. It was then she noticed Sam Flynn, standing tall next to his godfather. He was looking at her like he wanted to say something.

Of Course. She should have known he would be behind all this strangeness. Trust a Flynn to bring excitement to your day.

“Don’t worry Officer. Encom will pay for the damages.” Encom’s new CEO informed her in a voice that was uncharacteristically business like, professional.

She gave Sam a suspicious look.

“Whatever you say Flynn, just as long as you can use your wallet to keep your fellow citizens from pressing charges. As usual.” She thought that now she had been through enough Flynn nonsense to last her a lifetime. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Please ensure that your friend doesn’t break anything else.”

He gave her a nervous smile.

“Of course, of course.”

Mariana nodded, she glanced over at the Bradley’s and couldn’t help but smile.

Lora frowned at Rinzler, but her eyes were still smiling behind her glasses.

“What’s this all over your face?” She asked, puzzled. She cupped his chin in one hand. Lora whipped the chocolate from his mouth with the hem of her sleeve. Rinzler stubbornly pulled away from her, scowling at her.

“I am not” He paused for a moment, fighting with his own damaged throat. “A human child.” He growled.

“That’s it, I’m going to tell Roy he has to stop buying you so much candy all the time.” Alan sighed.

She may not have been too keen on Sam Flynn, but she had always trusted the Bradley’s.

All together, it was not the most unusual morning of her life, but certainly one of them. All in a day’s work patrolling Center City.


	2. Rinzler In New York City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partially inspired by my last visit to NYC, also Iron man reference.

New York City. Lights, glamor, art, theater, and pollution awaited. It was the city of prestige and class, of action and adventure. Here no one stopped playing, ruining or reinventing their lives long enough to sleep, it was the city that put itself at the center of the universe. NYC was the utopia of dreams and of traffic jams, of gangs and poetic graffiti, of variety and new experiences.

New York City was the current home of Stark Industries. Sam heaved a heavy sigh, he scowled down at the business card he was holding in his fingers.

Call me :) Tony had written under his number, going so far as to scribble a smiley face.

The bastard had made him fly all the way across the country just to see him. Stark Industries was interested in Encom's AI technology that the young Flynn had decided to explore, alternative to releasing the same software year after year. Stark better have something good to discuss, or Sam didn't care how much potential wealth Stark represented for Encom, he was going to punch him in the face. Jet lag and Sam Flynn were not a happy couple.

Stark Tower rose up above their heads, at the end of the block. Something brushed Sam's right shoulder. That accompanied by a terrifying rumbling that drew up memories Sam was not in the mood to think about, was nearly enough to make the CEO jump out of his skin. His head turned in the direction of the disturbance. A pair of glowing red eyes blinked at him, wide at the sudden explosion of movement from Sam, and completely innocent.

They had to bring Rinzler. Lora absolutely refused to leave him at home.

"Couldn't we have just… put him in a kennel or something?" Sam turned his head to whisper in the ear on his left, the ear of Alan Bradley. "The Rinzler sitting service volunteered. They weren't booked with any other Rinzlers."

His godfather gave him a disappointed look.

"Sam, we can't keep dropping him off at Roy's place so often. Roy spoils him rotten, do you really think Rinzler needs chocolate and caffeine? There won't be anything left of the west coast when we get back."

"I'm not taking him into the conference with us." Sam hissed. It would mean the end of his courier. He could imagine it now, all the disasters that would unfold. Conferences were horribly dull. Rinzler would have nothing to occupy himself with. In his minds eye Sam saw exploding coffee makers, overheating copy machines, sinks ripped out of bathroom walls, broken technology, flash floods, twisters, falling buildings, screaming horrified billionaires.

Lora put a hand on her husband's shoulder and halted him in the middle of the sidewalk. When Alan stopped his forward motion toward the tower, so did everyone else.

"Why don't you boys head over to the art museum early, we'll catch up after the meeting. It will be nice, the two of you can spend quality time together." Lora suggested in her soft, melodic voice that instantly put everyone at ease. Alan wanted to question if Rinzler would appreciate modern art, but thought better of it, and closed his mouth. The museum was calm and quiet inside, there would be nothing to startle the program. At the same time Rinzler wouldn't be stuck sitting still in an office chair for hours on end, they would be constantly moving from display to display, and that was the idea. Alan nodded. He circled around Sam and took his program by the hand.

"We'll meet back at Stark Tower at three?" Alan proposed. He received a grunt from Sam and a hum from Lora in the affirmative.

Alan led Rinzler away, in the opposite direction down the street. He looked over his shoulder at the program meandering after him, attached to his hand. Rinzler still hadn't gotten used to wearing shoes yet, and his Converse threatened to trip him. The laces had come undone again, Alan sighed, I just tied those not ten minutes ago!

Rinzler was looking up at Alan like a child put into a car by his parent without explanation, who wanted to ask

'Daddy, where are we driving?'

"It's a famous museum of modern art, the MoMA, a place where…" How did a man go about explaining art to a program?

\---

"What do you think?" Alan gestured at the single blue square in the middle of a yellow canvas. Rinzler purred, appraising what he was seeing, and tilting his head to the side as he considered the work of art.

"French toast." He decided.

"How about this one?"

Alan pointed out a near identical painting beside the first, the square painted on this work was red.

"MCP's french toast."

"Is everything square french toast?" Alan asked.

Rinzler nodded.

Well, Alan never really understood art either. That was the two of them, just an odd pair of non art understanders in an art understanding world.

A pretty guide wearing a pink shirt beneath her gray suit jacket walked by in her red high heels, they made a rhythmic clack clack clack sound against the floor that Rinzler rather liked. She paused occasionally to chatter softly about various paintings to her following of tourists. The program had been staring down at her spike heels, wonder how she could possibly walk in them, and what kind of intensive training discipline she had to go through in order to learn how. He wondered if it was anything like the martial arts he saw on the picture and noise box at home. Suddenly there was a hand at his back, ushering him along.

"Come on, let's go look at the paintings over here." Alan said, pointing at an adjoining room.

The two of them stopped in front of one of Andy Warhol's giant paintings. Light flittered in through the giant wall length window to their right.

"This one's pretty cool huh?"

"Chicken noodle soup." Rinzler said.

Alan smiled, Rinzler's speaking issue was improving. His voice was clearer and he was speaking more often, in a greater quantity of words.

"Yeah, this painting is actually food this time. You're an ordinary connoisseur."

They moved into a hall lined with painting that looked like intricate scribbles. They reminded Alan of television static.

Rinzler stopped in front of a black and white piece, fleck with a thousand other colors.

The lines were confusing, over lapping, running in all different directions. There were too many colors, too many lines, it was utter chaos. Imperfection. His head hurt.

"Enemy." Rinzler ground out.

"What?" Alan turned his head, what enemy?

The program advance toward the painting, the purr that had dropped it a quite hum thundered to life.

"No! No Rinzler! The billion dollar painting is not your enemy!"

The moment Rinzler touched the painting a thousand different alarms were blaring.

Security, all dressed in a professional black from shoes to sunglasses, rushed into the room through every door. Rinzler was not happy about being surrounded.

Alan could only watch, helpless.

Rinzler's fist hit the nearest guard in the gut, with a choked cry of pain, the man dropped like a sack of bricks. Then, the program leapt. He sailed over the heads of the mob, twisting gracefully in the air like an Olympic gymnast, like a football thrown with perfect spin. He landed in a crouch on the other side of the barrier of security guards, and disappeared from the hall in a blur of movement. Rinzler darted out the doorway so quickly the guards were left in a daze, spinning in place. Like school boys caught day dreaming in the outfield during a game, wondering where the ball that had just gone flying over their heads had vanished to.

Calm down Bradley. Deep breaths. You still have until three to find him and return to the tower before your wife kills you for losing her baby.

Security had searched the entire museum. Rinzler was gone, a bystander had witness a man jump through one of the large three story windows. The hole in the glass was suspiciously Rinzler sized, and as Alan looked down into the street below, he saw a fire escape winding up the side of the building.

Rinzler was loose in New York.

He had lost Rinzler, lost Rinzler in New York City.

\---

Rinzler wasn't lost, of course not, he knew his way back to Alan One. Rinzler looked right and left down the dark, dirty ally way. Nope, not lost at all, not one bit. Alan One was this way, Rinzler took the left path. The ally ended in an empty, sandy lot encircled on three sides by tall brick apartment buildings. On the open side was a broken, rusty chain link fence, beyond which was a busy street.

Alan One was no where in sight.

Who was he kidding? He was lost. What was he supposed to do? Rinzler remembered the nice police women who had helped him find Lora Prime and Alan One the last time he was lost, but she wasn't here, she was back home. This was an entirely different place, it even had different police women. The User world was so big, Rinzler wondered if it even had an end.

"Hello Mr."

What? Who? The program looked down to see a very small creature tugging at his jeans. She had wide brown eyes magnified ten fold behind a pair of glasses that reminded him of the lenses he'd seen on Alan One's face in old photographs. A pair of pigtails sat atop her head, the curliest hair he's every seen, he wondered if they weren't separate organisms themselves.

"Mr. have you seen Mrs. Wigly? We can't find her anywhere." She asked. We?

Rinzler looked to see that he was once again surrounded, but instead of the enemy, he saw four frightened looking User children.

Rinzler tilted his head to the side as if to ask who?

"Mrs. Wigly is our chaperone. We're on a field trip." The girl explained. "Can you help us find her?"

"You are lost?" He asked.

A boy standing to his right nodded.

"We were going to see Lady Liberty. Do you know where she is? I bet Mrs. Wigly would be with her." He said.

"I'm lost to." Rinzler admitted to them.

He understood how frightening being lost was, he resolved to assist these User spawn in locating this Lady Liberty.


End file.
